best karaoke ever.

kmoney

i know there are people who were there last night who would disagree with the title of this blog, but last night was such a huge ego boost that if i hadn't been so down on myself lately i would have probably drowned in my own feces.

it started around 9 p.m. i drank three beers before leaving the house, desperately trying to dodge my grandmother's evil glances. it's not that she was worried about me having a few and then driving, she just can't stand the idea of anyone having more fun than she is. considering what her life has been like since she moved into Breen Manor (see post, "dropping like...you know") the only people having less fun than her are south african hemophiliac prostitutes and bill o'reilly (not that he doesn't engage in amusing activities, like phone sex, but his heart is so black and numb that i would find it hard to believe that he feels any joy).

i leave around 9:15, arriving at the bar at 9:30. there is a different doorman tonight, not the usual ghetto-wannabe with a bowl cut and white t-shirt the size of kirstie alley's ass. i immediately see star, our own lovable kj, and the best thing to come out of a hippie since joni mitchell's "blue". i sit and chat for a while and then, noticing my fading buzz, head to the bar. gary is there in all his emotionless splendour, and pours me a shot while i wait for my pitcher. the jack slides down effortlessly, while i, on the other hand, have trouble accepting it into my body. i do a half sneeze/half hyperventilation, and shake my head back and forth violently to keep from passing out. man, that shit is great. then i notice kmoney wandering in. ah, the great and magnificent kmoney. what can one say?

i order another shot for later so that i can focus all of my attention on choosing songs. we decide to sit at the judges table, the one right up front facing the stage. with no discussion, i assume the duties of "the paula" for the evening. this basically means i get stinking drunk and tell everyone how amazing they are. if i do say so, i fill the role nicely.

star joins us at the table while we wait for more people to arrive, and he tells us that he and his wife are separating. as we get drunker and drunker, the topic moves to women, and i mention that i've slept with a few of those in my time. star then achieves quote of the night status by saying "oh, so you're gay with a chance of women". 20 minutes later, when kmoney and i finally stop laughing, we vow to remember this for our blogs.

karaoke starts about 45 minutes late. i open the night, introduced as "diva bob" as usual, and tear through cab calloway's "minnie the moocher". it isn't my best, but a group of intoxicated early twenty-something girls seem to appreciate my effort. we then find out that this is a bachelorette party and someone named "hester" (very, very unsure of the name, but this one is amusing) is getting married in eight days. i hope her fiance knows what a fall-down lush his future wife is.

a few minutes later, i notice an attractive man with a beard enter, but just before i stick out my chest and start howling at the disco ball, i see a luscious mane of red fabulousness, and i know i'm in for some trouble. i didn't recognize superfly, because i'd only met him once and i was, you guessed it, drunk. hugs are exchanged, excited conversation ensues, and i inform trouble that my new favorite word is "fantastic", and that she should expect to hear it a lot. I do not dissapoint.

because of the light crowds, i assume we'll all be singing a few times, so i choose a fluff song for my next performance. for non-karaoke addicts, a fluff song is one that isn't really perfect for you, but that you to love sing and always have a lot of fun with. my fluff song for the evening is "miss independant" by kelly clarkson. kmoney immediately forbids it and i'm forced to rush to the stage with my slip without writing down the disc number. i sing it, and surprise even myself. kmoney grudgingly admits that it worked but that he still never wants to hear it again. what a bitch!

while i'm singing, lindsay walks in with her new beau. he's gorgeous and sweet and incredibly laid-back. my kind of guy. the energy in the room is electric and its pretty clear that this is going to be one hell of an evening. trouble, superfly, and kmoney rip their respective songs to shreds and receive healthy responses each. then its time for my third selection, "rock your body" by justin timberlake, another fluff song.

around this time, i notice that my phone is blinking. i have a missed call from an ephrata number very similar to lore's private work line. assuming she had worked late, i go outside to listen to the message only to hear lisa's voice (see post, "kmoney and my karaoke problem"). she is in pennsylvania for the weekend and wants to hang out with me and kmoney on monday. when i tell kmoney, he nearly falls off his chair and runs up the stairs to call her. we discuss monday, but i have tickets to see ani difranco in pittsburg and he works very early on tuesday. we tell her that it's saturday or not at all to see us, so we make plans for a karaoke rerun the next evening. this is how happy i am. http://alan.levien.com/alan.happy.1.jpg

by the time i get to my fourth number, its apparent that i have some fans, endearingly referred to by star as the bachelorettes. they bring me up for a song or two, dance enthusiastically during my performances, and serve me well as my own personal cheering section. at the end of the night they place a delicious blue cotton candy-flavored drink in front of me, a hearty token of their appreciation for being my fabulous self.

my big song of the night, the one i had been rehearsing for weeks, is "people" by barbara streisand. it's just in my range, not too high, not too low, has the kind of intimate feel that i prefer to convey with my singing style, and allows me to belt within my comfort area. i don't do as well with it as i had hoped, but kmoney, who had had severe reservations about my song choices for the evening, gave me my props. because his opinion is more important to me than most, mainly because of his honesty, i felt i had succeeded.

i ask star to close the night with my signature tune, "when you're good to mama" from chicago, but the crowd had been screaming "free bird" for an hour. just after i sing "people", two attractive men standing by the bar offer to pay me 20 bucks to close out with it. i eventually get 15, but decide this was more than i had ever been paid to sing anything, and oblige them with the tune.

the evening ends with our usual journey into the land that food forgot: eatnpark. i make a porcine fool of myself with the midnight breakfast buffet, and we talk, laugh, and sing more songs (because we just can't get enough). as the crowd thins, and we begin to gradually slow down, we look at each other, smiling, knowing we had just experienced something magical. a great night of karaoke, friends, and beer.

it doesn't get much better than that.